Frequency: Edward Cullen One-Shot
by PastTheStarsAndBoulevards
Summary: Aurora had everything any girl could want: a large house, various cars and toys, and disposable money. One thing she lacked? Stability, that could be found in Edward Cullen.


**I dug this little jewel up while reviewing old work.**

**I thought maybe someone would like to read it.**

**It's an original character...mostly her, anyway. **

**Enjoy.**

**xx**

* * *

I hated Edward, and Edward hated me.

It was as simple as that.

He smothered me with his questions and constant watch, and to him, I was a child he babysat, a waste of space, a nuisance.

I wasn't the one that asked him to play babysitter, I was a legal adult, I couldn't help it that my sister was too concerned with herself to come and deal with the problem she created herself.

I hated the way his hair was a beautiful mess, I hated the care that lingered in his eyes for the narrowest of seconds.

I hated the curve of his lips when he smirked, the smirk I wanted to slap off his handsome face.

I hated that the simplest brush of the skin sent my heart racing, I hated the way he knew.

I hated that he pretended not to care, I hated the way he never did a thing I wanted him to do, but he did what was "needed".

I hated how he was always right…about everything.

I hated the way I knew I truly felt, I hated the way I stormed off every time, hoping he'd follow, and most of all, I hated how he did follow me.

I hated the fact that I needed him, I hated that he was my new drug, I hated that he'd got me clean, cleaner than I'd ever been in 3 years.

I hated Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, with every breath left in my mere mortal body.

I hated that I really actually loved him with every beat of left in my heart.

I hated there was somehow room in a tiny part of my black heart.

I was suddenly angry at realization, and I stood up from the chair I sat in, rage boiling through my veins.

No.

I didn't love him.

According to him, the only thing I could love were the pills, the drugs.

He was right, and I was delusional.

How could I tell love from lust?

I kicked the coffee table, not satisfied with the jolt of pain that shot up my leg.

It wasn't enough, none of it was ever enough.

I glanced at my cell phone, noting the time before throwing it across the room, satisfied as it shattered.

I wasn't done.

I was irate, in fact, I was beyond enraged.

I hadn't had a Xanax in over three months, I was being good, and it suddenly, this tiny realization was too much.

I was going to relapse, I could feel it, and I was angrier, the rage more fierce than before.

I was proving Edward right, he was always right. I was nothing but a self-centered spoiled little drug-addict.

I punched the wall, blood surfacing on my knuckles, but it wasn't enough.

I grabbed the closest vase and threw it, the glass shattering on the tile floor.

It wasn't enough.

None of it was enough.

None of the pills, none of the alcohol, none of Edward.

I was finally breaking, I couldn't stand it anymore.

I grabbed whatever I could, throwing it, breaking it, punching it, ripping it, tearing it, **destroying it.**

I was leaving everything as I was on the inside: a wreck, a mess, nothing but the destroyed remnants of a once innocent girl, the one that was mocking me in my head.

I collapsed, my rage suddenly replaced with regret for all the pain I'd caused Edward, and his family.

For what I kept putting myself through, them through.

I wasn't their responsibility; the mess my sister created wasn't their problem.

"Aurora?" The voice was frayed around the edges, a voice that would have sent my heart leaping under any other circumstances. But then, right that second, it was a slap across the face.

I pulled my knees to my chest, glass scraping against the tile, sobbing harder.

I wanted him to leave, I wanted him to leave me to pick up my own pieces. I didn't want him to see me like this.

His hands were around me in less than a second, and he pulled me up, holding my body to his.

"What have you done?" He whispered, but my vision was too blurred by tears to see his face.

I didn't want to see his face right now, I didn't want to see his face ever again.

"What does it matter to you," I spat, taking my pain out on him.

"You matter to me."

Wrong answer.

I hit him with what little strength was left in my body, only hurting myself, but I hit him, thrashing against him wildly.

He didn't let go, he held onto me, as tight as he could without breaking me.

I sobbed harder, giving up.

That was me, Aurora, the coward, the phony, the weak.


End file.
